way back when
by lotbe
Summary: You wear your hair down, your face is made up. You know this town so well. / Korrasami


There are many things she remembers, shards of memories buried deep beneath her skin, sinking deep into her bones.

The sky looked like rain. Dark, heavy clouds circle Republic City. Korra remembers watching them as she fucked Asami against the window.

She remembers the way Asami's eyes were screwed shut, the words coming out of her mouth in short gasps. "Promise me something."

"Yes. Anything."

Korra was so full of faith back then, filled to the brim with reckless belief. A child too young to be scared of the world.

"Forever—" Asami gasped against the crook of her neck. "Promise me you'll always love me."

"Forever," Korra repeated it like a mantra. "Always."

Time flies. That may as well have been a lifetime ago.

Korra remembers a world full of promises and rainfall.

* * *

It's funny that they'd meet again, eight years later—at Opal's restaurant, of all places.

Korra's heart skips a beat when she sees her. She looks different. Older, maybe. Sharper. Her makeup is different.

"You two know each other?"

Asami is smiling, but it's practiced and polite and Korra doesn't recognize a single thing about it. "We went to high school together."

There are noises in the restaurant—waiters taking orders, yelling from the kitchen—but it's all background, like the dull thud of Korra's heartbeat.

She takes a deep breath and nods twice. "Yeah."

"We were close."

"We were."

"Would you like to join me?" Asami nods towards her table. "I was hoping we could catch up."

A lot of things change in eight years, Korra finds out. Asami has taken over Future Industries, and she's like, a big deal now, apparently—then again, wasn't she always?

Her company is working on a train project in the Fire Nation, says Asami. She says she quit smoking five years ago.

Her clothes are different. Neater, Korra thinks, and noticeably more expensive. She looks good, and Korra notices.

They talk for twenty-five minutes, maybe thirty, before Korra excuses herself to leave. She thinks about it on the way home, about high school, about Asami. About her designer clothes and business heels and smiles that don't quite reach her eyes.

About the engagement ring on her finger—big and sparkly and beautiful.

Korra thinks about that when she goes to sleep.

* * *

The air smelled like the promise of fall. That's how they met for the first time.

Asami was sitting on the science building rooftop—Republic City High School is the kind of school that can afford an entire separate building for every single department—a cigarette resting idly between her fingers.

Korra remembers this. She remembers the way Asami's hair fell over her shoulder, a mirage of dark curls and red lipstick and eyes greener than anything she'd ever seen.

"Looking for someone?"

"Looking for the fourth four, actually," she'd said as she studied the rooftop. "Doesn't seem to be one here."

Asami's laugh is soft, like feathers falling to the ground. "You might be looking for the art building." She motioned to the building behind her. "That one."

"Oh, right. Thanks. I'm just—I'm new."

"I know." She smiled gently. "I'm Asami."

"Korra."

Beginnings are simple like that. It takes a look, a smile, and two strangers—anything can happen from there.

Korra ended up building an empire, a civilization of love and other unspoken things, all within the confines of her beating heart. She didn't know it at the time, but the bricks are already being laid. An empire in its infancy. That's how beginnings work.

* * *

"Is something wrong?"

There's something like concern on Bolin's face, dimly lit by the flickering TV.

"What?"

"It's just—you've been kind of quiet."

Mako is looking at her, too, she realizes. Korra shakes her head and forces a smile.

"It's nothing," she manages to say. The words feel thick on her tongue. "Just, you know, thinking. About stuff."

"Like, serious stuff?"

"Kinda."

"Oh." Bolin nods at her slowly. Mako just stares, his immaculately-shaped eyebrows raising as he says, "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Stop being such a mom." Korra waves dismissively. "You're starting to sound like Tenzin."

They accept her answer, despite the fact that neither of them seems convinced. Korra puts a little more effort into appearing interested during the rest of the movie.

* * *

Friendship came easily to them. Asami liked Korra, and Korra liked Asami. Soon enough they were inseparable.

Korra thinks about this, thinks that maybe she was doomed from the start.

Asami's fingers fit perfectly between hers. She had wondered, in that moment, if friends normally do this—if they're supposed to hold hands and lie on the grass and talk endlessly as the afternoon breeze swept around them. Still, there's a smile dancing on Asami's lips, and her cheeks grew warm, and Korra didn't ask.

"So, what happened next?"

"Well, like I said, I was about to throw the first punch, right? And I was really close. I would've done it, but then the police came and arrested all of us before anything happened." She shrugged. "It's probably for the best. I mean, I've never been in a fight before. Those three guys would've fucked me up pretty bad."

Korra remembers the look on Asami's face, a mix between amusement and fascination. "So you spent your first night in Republic City in jail?"

"Well, half a night. Tenzin came to pick me up. God, he was so mad. Kept saying the school will cancel my scholarship if they found out. Everything turned out okay though. Tenzin talked to the chief of police—they know each other, I think—and convinced her to let me out without putting it on record. And then I was grounded for two weeks."

"You were just trying to help, though."

"I know, right? That's what I told Tenzin, but he said I was too hot-headed, or something. He made me listen to his meditation CDs, which is exactly as bad as it sounds."

There was a laugh, then, warm and gentle like the beginning of spring. Asami said, "Well, in any case, I'm glad you didn't get beat up" and placed a tentative hand on top of Korra's.

They drove around town later that night, going nowhere and everywhere. Asami took her to a diner, an old playground, and a karaoke bar. Korra looked at their linked hands and thought, _there's a word for this_.

Korra's never been good with words, but she found this one. _Best friends._

The night wore on, and Asami finally dropped her off at home. As she drifted to sleep, Korra thought about blooming flowers. About Asami, and how she always looked like spring. About the ten thousand butterflies that threatened to burst from her stomach whenever they touched.

Before sleep overcame her, Korra thought,_ There's a word for that, too._

* * *

The second time they meet—the second time of the second time, that is—it's at a coffee shop, three days after running into each other at Opal's restaurant.

It's funny, Korra thinks, that she'd see Asami again so quickly—after eight years of fading memories and endless distance. Looking at her now—it's strange. It's different. Like reading an old book with the pages torn out.

"Asami."

"Korra. Funny seeing you again, huh?"

Funny. That's what she thought, too. That's what it is. Everything is so fucking funny.

The ring is still on Asami's finger—it's even more beautiful under the pale lamplight. Korra stares until her vision blurs and doesn't laugh.

* * *

It wobbled. The floor. It didn't, but Korra dragged her feet across the hardwood tiles leading to Asami's bedroom and it _wobbled_. The thought made her giggle a bit.

"Korra, careful, don't trip over the—oh crap. No, no, it's okay, I'll take care of it. Let's get you to bed. Why on earth did you take so many shots?"

Korra doesn't remember much from that night, but she remembers murmuring something about 'fun' and the smell of Asami's sheets as she collapsed onto it.

Asami's sitting on the edge of the bed, with Korra's legs on her lap as she tried to take her shoes off.

"Asami." Korra slurred, the syllables meshing together unceremoniously. "Asami. Asami, listen."

"Listening." With considerable effort, she managed to yank the boots from Korra's feet and tossed them onto the floor.

"Yeah, can you take this too—this. Off." She pulled at her sweater impatiently. "It's _hot_."

There's a beat of silence. Asami said, "I can turn off the heating if you—"

"No. Just... _shirt_."

The following moment was quiet, save for Korra's incoherent whining. Finally, Asami climbed onto the bed and started to tug on Korra's arms.

"Alright, well, I'm going to need you to sit up." Korra made a noise. "Quit whining, you goof."

"_You're _goof," Korra said as Asami pulled her into a sitting position. Someone laughed. She can't remember who it was.

What she remembers is Asami's hands on the hem of her sweater, their presence ghosting over her skin as they lifted her shirt over her head. She remembers Asami's eyes, and how green they were, and how close they were. She remembers the heat building in her stomach despite the fact that it's winter and she's half-naked from the waist up.

Asami was starting to move away when Korra's hand clumsily grabbed her wrist. It's different from the way they normally hold, or touch, each other—her grip was too firm, her fingers too clammy. Asami whipped her head around to see Korra staring at her with heavy eyes.

The details are shrouded in the haze of alcohol, but she remembers how it felt. Her fingers tightened around Asami's wrist and it's quiet desperation and loud heartbeats and then Korra's whispering "will you kiss me" and that's how everything changed.

"You're drunk," Asami said.

Korra looked at her. Blinked. "Yeah."

A moment passed, and then Asami's fingers were covering hers. She watched as Asami untangled herself from her grasp, slowly and gently. Watched her retreating back as she moved towards the light switch on the other side of the room.

"Go to sleep, Korra."

The night faded into darkness.

* * *

"I have a thought."

"Yeah?"

"You and Asami," Opal's eyes light up mischievously. "Used to be a thing?"

Korra splutters. "What? _No_. I don't—_no_. Why would you think that?"

"Just a feeling, I guess. You two were giving off weird vibes."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?

"There's no _vibe_."

"So you say."

"_Opal_."

"Fine, fine, I believe you." Opal waves dismissively. "So you don't mind that I invited Asami tonight, right?"

"What?"

"To the party. At my place. She said she wants to come."

"She—_why_?"

"Why not? It's just a party. Plus, she and I are becoming really good friends," Opal says airily. "So, it's all good?"

"I—yeah. Whatever." Korra tries her best to sound nonchalant, although she doubts Opal will buy it. "All good."

A beat passes. Opal says, "Don't scowl so hard. You're starting to look like the less cool version of Mako."

"I hate you so much."

"Hate you right back, nerd."

* * *

The most terrifying moment in her life came when she found Asami Sato on her doorsteps at eleven p.m. with unmistakably puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

"Can I come in?"

They never talked about it. Asami didn't want to, and Korra didn't ask. It may have been a fight with her dad, or something about her mom—Asami had only talked about her mom once, with alcohol on her breath and the saddest eyes Korra has ever seen—but Asami didn't say so Korra didn't ask.

Instead, she walked Asami up the stairs—quietly, so they don't wake Tenzin and the kids—and let her shower for thirty minutes while Korra distractedly scratched at her homework with a pen.

It's scary to see Asami like this—all quiet looks and shaky words. Korra had seen her sad before. Had seen her sad and delighted and angry. But she had never seen her cry.

Korra didn't find out the reason behind it until the next day, when Asami took her to the grave of Yasuko Sato.

But she didn't know that at the time. Asami emerged from the bathroom half an hour later wearing one of Korra's t-shirts. She looked a little less sad now, her eyes a little clearer, and that's all Korra really cared about.

"Sorry for showing up like this," Asami said. "I must've freaked you out."

She smiled tentatively. "A bit, yeah, but I just want to make sure you're okay."

Asami sidestepped the piles of clothes and Korra's oversized laundry basket with practiced ease—she knew this place so well by now—before plopping down on the floor next to Korra. They just breathed for a while, then Korra said, "Are you still sad?"

"No." There's a heavy lilt in her voice. "Not when I'm with you."

It's more of a deflection than an answer. An obvious lie, if anything, but Korra didn't call her out on it. Instead, she pulled Asami close and leaned her head on her shoulder and said, "Glad I could help."

They're becoming pretty good at this.

They spent the rest of the night on her twin bed, with Asami's legs draped over her own as she read out loud some overtly poignant poems from Jinora's poetry book. She kept tripping over the words, but it made Asami laugh, so she didn't mind.

The night wore on. They talked about old sitcoms and imaginary road trips and consumed a gross amount of sugared cereals in the pantry until dawn started to break. By the time the sun came up, Asami was smiling and giggling and she didn't seem so sad anymore.

"Tell me something."

"Hmm?"

They were lying under the sheets, a shoddy attempt at running away from the outside world. Asami's words were slow, hesitant. "Do you love me?"

Korra thought about this. She thought about Asami's slow smiles and her gentle touches and hair that always smelled like lavender. She thought of the way Asami talked about human inventions, with bright eyes and hands dancing in time with her words.

She thought about the thumping in her chest, loud and steady. About how she's never loved anyone like this.

"Yes," Korra breathed. "Yes. Of course."

Maybe it's the exhaustion running in their veins. She's never seen Asami so expressive, her emotions laid bare on her sleeve.

"Will you stay?"

"I'll stay."

"Okay. Good." Asami's fingers found hers under the sheets. "Good."

It happened slowly, like a torturous countdown. Korra stared at Asami's fluttering lashes, at her nose, her lips. They're so close, and her heart was hammering so loud she thought Asami must've heard it.

Something surged through her stomach. Korra looked at Asami's lips again, and she can't look away.

Fear came next. She felt it everywhere—in her lungs, in her ears—blocking up her senses. This, she thought, this was the most terrifying moment of her life.

Still, Korra was seventeen, and she was brave, so she sucked in a breath and surged forward, covering Asami's lips with her own.

She was so young, back then. Scared but brave. That could've been her life at its best, she thinks, because Asami kissed her back, and Korra tasted stars.

* * *

Korra's drunk. She wonders if she might be getting too old for drinking games with Bolin.

The air is warm and sticky, like most summer nights. She walks along the concrete, listening to the sound of late-night traffic. Eight years in Republic City, and it's starting to sound like music to her ears.

She's slipped out of the party a few minutes ago, without telling anybody. Bolin was passed out on the couch, and she couldn't be bothered to find Opal. Mako was hitting it off with some girl, so she didn't tell him, either.

And Asami. Asami was there. They made eye contact a few times throughout the night, but Korra always made sure to look away.

With any luck, she thinks, they wouldn't have to meet again. In a while, at least. Asami will still hang out with Opal—because they're _such _good friends now, apparently—but Korra won't have to be there. She'll be at home, or with her other friends, and she won't have to talk to Asami. Won't even have to look at her. It'll be easy.

Then again, the world is anything but easy. She should know this by now.

"Korra!"

She turns her head first, just to catch a glimpse of the approaching figure and long, dark hair. She's coming closer now, heels clicking against the concrete—once, twice. The sound is drowned out by the hum of the city, but Korra thinks it might match her stupid, racing heart.

"Asami?"

"Korra." They're standing a few feet from each other. It's dark, and she can't see very well, but she notices a flash of hesitation that crosses Asami's face. Korra blinks, and then it's gone. "I was hoping we could talk."

Talk. Of course Asami wants to talk. It's all she's ever done ever since they ran into each other at Opal's restaurant. Asami talks—about cars and gas prices and the weather—and Korra hates every second of it.

The alcohol hums dully inside her head. It makes her focus smaller—she can't see anything else, anything except for Asami, and her dress, and her hair—everything else is far away.

It makes her feel bolder, too. Just enough that she can shake her head and say, "I don't feel like talking."

Korra thinks it's strange that there was a time in her life when she would've done anything for Asami. She could've asked for the world, and Korra would've gone out and tried to get it. Now they can barely talk to each other.

Asami says, "Korra, please" and maybe there's no reason behind it, maybe it's just that old habits die hard, but Korra feels herself give in, like her body hasn't yet learned how to say no to Asami.

"Fine. Let's get on with it, then. What did you want to talk about?"

There's a short lapse of silence. Asami takes a deep breath and says, "You were avoiding me."

"I wasn't."

"At the party—"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"Don't lie to me, Korra." Asami's voice is soft but it feels like an accusation. "You were never good at it."

It's true. Korra can't lie for shit, and it never really bothered her. Until now.

Something hot and ugly sparks inside of her, something like anger. She looks at Asami and says, in a low voice, "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't talk like you know me. Like we're friends, or something. We don't—we're _not_."

Asami's eyes are on her now, heavy and piercing. Korra is angry but all she wants to do is run away. She wonders when she became so scared of everything.

"Is that what this is about? You're still—"

"No. No, it's not like that."

"What is it like then? Why—"

"I don't know, okay? I don't care."

Asami shakes her head. "I want us to be friends."

"Well, I don't."

"Korra—"

"You heard me." The alcohol buzzes in her veins. She feels bold enough to move away. "I'm going home."

She could've left, then. She was going to. That would've been the end of it, but Korra's just taken two steps when a hand grabs her wrist.

It's a strange thought, but somewhere in her hazed mind, Korra realizes that this is the first time they've touched in eight years.

"Korra." Asami's voice is soft. Gentle. Fuck, she was always so gentle. "I just—listen, okay? I know we haven't seen each other in a long time, but you're... still important to me."

Asami's been drinking, too, Korra realizes. Her eyes are glazed over and she can smell it on her breath.

"I want you to know that, even if you don't want to be friends."

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's just the fact that Asami is here—Korra finds herself remembering too many things all at once. Heavy rain and green eyes and stolen kisses. She hasn't thought about them in so long.

She feels Asami's hand around her wrist. She's so close—_fuck_—and her eyes are so green. They look the same way they did eight years ago.

Important. That's what Asami said. _You're still important to me. _It's a fucking joke, Korra thinks, but she's just drunk enough to let herself believe it.

"You said you want to be friends?"

Asami's nod is slow but there's a hopeful look on her face. "I do."

"It'll be hard," Korra says, but her voice is gentler, almost calm. "We can barely manage as strangers."

Asami laughs a little, because, yeah, they're pretty shit at that. Korra finds herself smiling a little too.

"We are pretty bad at being strangers."

Korra nods. "And horrible as acquaintances."

"We were good friends, though."

"Yeah."

"We were good at many things."

The words settle in the space between their bodies. Asami's let go of Korra's wrist, but she hasn't moved away. She's close. Too close. Korra thinks of a particular winter morning—they were under the sheets, almost touching, just like this—and suddenly she wants nothing more than to grab Asami and kiss her.

Maybe if she was young and brave, she would do it. She would put her hand on the back of Asami's neck and pull her into a kiss. If she was brave.

But Korra isn't seventeen anymore, and she certainly isn't brave, so she shakes the thought from her head and wills herself to move away.

Something stops her. A hitch in Asami's breathing, and her hand on Korra's cheek. Before she could register what's happening, Asami is kissing her.

A train screeches in a distance. Glaring headlights zoom past them, leaving behind a trail of dust. Korra finds Asami's closed eyes and dancing tongue, and the rest is easy.

* * *

A/N: This is my first TLOK fanfic and wow I'm like so nervous. I haven't written anything in so long but Korra and Asami are just so cute and I can't

Summary from "Rearview" by Bad Suns


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